Caffeinated Get Away
by JokersGirls
Summary: After a heist, The Joker and Harley Quinn race down the streets of Gotham in attempts to get back to the hideout with a newly aquired and stolen priceless artifact. But what happens when Harley needs to make an unexpected stop, at a Starbucks?


**Caffeniated Get Away was written by two of your favorite writers! Alex Snape writer of the Maybe Baby Series, and Joker'n'Harley writer of the I Happen to Like Jokes Series. Please Read and Review.**

**Hope You Enjoy!**

**Caffeinated Get Away**

Harley gripped the steering wheel as The Joker lay across the backseat, his hands behind his neck. He was cackling at the top of his lungs as they sped off down the street. "Oh, geez!" The Joker exclaimed when he finally caught his breath. "Did you see the look…haha…on that museum guard's face…heehee…when I pulled out that rubber chicken…hoohoo…and gave him a healthy dose of Smilex!?" He threw his head back and continued to laugh out loud.

"Uh, yeah, Mistah J," Harley said in a quivering voice. "That was sure some fun." She suddenly gasped quickly when she felt a tingling urge. "Uh…Puddin'?"

The Joker lifted himself, still chuckling, and came up behind Harley and caressed the nape of her neck while whispering, "Yes, my lovely little Harlequin?"

Harley couldn't help but giggle and then she suddenly squeezed her legs together. "Uh…I really need to stop and…"

The Joker raised an eyebrow. "Stop? We're on the run, Pooh. We can't just stop while we're making a get-away."

"I know, Mistah J," Harley cooed. "It's just that…well, I really need to…" The tingling came back to her but with an added stinging sensation. "I gotta tinkle! Real bad!"

"What?!" The Joker yelled, jumping into the front seat beside her. "Dammit, Harley! You always pick the most inconvenient time to run to the restroom! Why couldn't you have gone before we'd stolen that priceless artifact?!"

Harley bit her lip and squeezed her legs tighter. "Please, Puddin'! My bladder is about to explode!"

The Joker growled and then huffed in his seat, crossing his arms. "Fine! Just pull over somewhere, do your business and run right back out! Geez, the things I do for you, girl. Honestly!"

"Eep! Thanks, Mistah J!!" Harley stepped on the brake and pulled into the parking lot of the first place she saw.

"Starbucks?!" The Joker shouted. "You had to pick the most popular place with teenagers and out-of-work writer wanna-be's to go to the bathroom?! We'll be spotted, you dim-wit!"

"Oh, come on, Puddin'," Harley said, jumping out of the car. "It's only four in the morning. Who's gonna see us?"

She ran to the door and was about to run inside when she felt The Joker's hand grab her wrist. "Look here, sister! You'd better be quick about this or I'll kick your ass all the way back to Arkham myself!" He suddenly lifted his head and took a few quick sniffs into the air. "Wow. That smells great." He looked down at Harley, who now had her legs crossed while hopping on one foot with her face a pink hue. "Hmmm…why don't I come in with you, Pooh?"

Harley nodded, satisfied with Joker's proposition and bolted inside to relieve herself of the growing and toiling feeling in her body. Joker casually strode in behind her, kicking at the dust with long strides until he stopped his luxurious gait about five feet into the building.

He took in another deep breath of the coffee scented air, his fisted hands residing on his hips, his chest lean and proud, and his smile wide and brilliant. "Now this is what Gotham air should smell like!" he stated exuberantly as he made his way to the register where a young barista stood, carefully and attentively counting cash.

The barista didn't look up from his tedious caper. "Welcome to Starbucks, I'll be right with you. I just need to finish this, sir."

"Oh, of course," Joker excused the man from his doings, "take your time." He tapped his fingers against the top of the counter and looked around at the various items of décor randomly, "You know one time back in '89 I had these _three_ girls with me in a '75 Volkswagen. _Two_ of the girls in the front accidentally shifted the gear into _fourth_ and we got reared from behind causing the car to swerve over _three_ whole lanes! Needless to say there was an _eight_ car pile up and I ended up with _twenty_ stitches in my thigh, _eighteen_ in my arm, _nine_ staples on my dome, and _one_ really pissed off wife because she had been watching channel _six_ at _seven_ o'clock and saw the_ three_ girls I was with…"

"Sir, I don't mean to be rude," the barista pointed out as he ended his third try at counting the cash, "but your story involves a lot of numbers and well, it's messing up my counting."

Joker smiled as the barista still counted his worthless cash, "Well pardon me."

Harley hopped into the bathroom moaning in agony as she shot into a stall and instantly twirled around with prancing feet, trying to reach the zipper of her outfit. "I'm gonna pee in my suit!"

A lady in the stall next to Harley's sat quietly on her porcelain throne, listening in on the high pitched tormented pleas. She could see part of Harley's shadow move crazily on the floor in front of her.

"Come on!" she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth and crept up onto her tip-toes as if that would allow for better reach, "Almost got ya!"

The lady shifted in her place and tried desperately to ignore the loud and squeaky tone of the struggling Harley in the next door stall. She stared at the door to her own booth and silently went on with her business, listening but trying to block out the shrill and child-like cries that echoed throughout the entire bathroom facility.

"Please, I don't think I can hold it much longer!" Harley squeezed her legs together and closed one eye as she battled with the small zipper piece.

The boisterous holler of Harley's pleas subdued after a momentary exhausted sigh, and the lady in the next stall was able to relax from the abrupt calmness within the room. She closed her eyes thoughtfully until a sudden loud and shocking pound forced itself on the joining wall of the stall which caused the woman to jump and throw a hand to her chest, "Oh my goodness!"

Harley slammed her back against the wall in her attempt to reach for the zipper, "Almost…_almost_," her fingers tickled at the fastener until she finally reached enough to grab hold of it, "got ya!" she pulled the zipper down and immediately threw herself down onto the toilet. She tossed her head back in happy relief, "Ahhh…"

The Joker was beginning to get impatient as the barista continued to count the money from his register. He sighed and crossed his arms and started to loudly tap his foot. When he found the perfect rhythm, The Joker sidled closer to the counter, softly cleared his throat, and began singing, in a rather annoying Cockney English accent, "_I'm Henry the Eighth, I am! Henry the Eighth, I am I am! I got married to the widow next door_…"!

The barista groaned in frustration. "Sir, please! I'm sorry, but I'm really bad with numbers and…" He finally raised his head and came face to face with the sly grin of The Clown Prince of Crime. The barista's mouth dropped and he stammered, "Holy sh-shit! You're…you…"

"I'm The Joker. Blah, blah. Yes, yes. I've been told many times," The Joker replied, amused at the now pale barista's reaction as to whom his customer was. "So, tell me…" He leaned in and looked at the barista's name badge. "Mark…tell me, Mark. How much is a coffee nowadays?"

"Uh…uh…" Mark babbled as he stared at his fiendish customer. "Well…if you want just a plain coffee…it's $1.75."

The Joker raised an eyebrow and put his hand on the counter. "What? Almost two bucks? Geez, when I was a kid, a coffee only cost a nickel. And that was with cream and sugar."

"Well, you can still get that, sir," Mark told him. "We can also put in steamed milk and flavored syrup."

The Joker sneered. "Why the devil would anyone wanna do that? That would ruin such a perfectly good cup of coffee." He looked up and glared at the menu and then leapt over to the other side of the counter, making Mark jump backward in shock. The Joker stepped closer to the menu as he gazed at it. "What the hell is a Roo…roob…?"

"Oh, that's a Vanilla Rooibus."

"What was that?" The Joker looked at him, perplexed. "How do you say it?"

Mark bravely stepped closer. "Uh, it's pronounced 'roy-bus.' It's a kind of tea and we steep it in hot water and add some vanilla syrup and steamed milk."

"Hmmm," The Joker groaned, intrigued, but then snorted. "Once again…why? I mean, tea already has a naturally smooth flavor; why screw it up with hot milk?"

"Well…some people…like their tea that way, I guess. We do the same with our coffee."

The Joker turned and looked at Mark. "Example, please."

Mark stepped over and bravely stood beside him. "Okay…um. Oh, the white chocolate mocha. It's coffee with white chocolate syrup and mocha with steamed milk and whipped cream."

The Joker just stared, dumbstruck. "Is this a coffee shop or an ice cream parlor? Seriously, who would want that much in their coffee? If you could call it that, I guess. My God, what fool in their right mind would want that?"

Harley suddenly ran out of the bathroom and up to the counter. "Oh! Could I get a white chocolate mocha, Mistah J? Please?"

The Joker sighed and looked over at Mark. "Well, sonny. What are you waiting for? Work your magic. Make my girl a white chocolate thing-a-ma-jig."

"Um…okay." He walked over to the brewing station and began to mix Harley's coffee as The Joker eyed his every move. As he began to pump the mocha into the cup, The Joker suddenly came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. "What's that?"

"Uh…" Mark stuttered. "It's mocha. I have to put that in first before adding the steamed milk."

"Mmm hmm…" The Joker walked over to the rack of different flavored syrups and scanned them. He put his finger underneath the spout of the strawberry syrup and pumped a small dollop onto his fingertip. He tasted it and chuckled under his breath and next put a generous amount on two fingertips. "Oh, Harley," he purred.

Harley looked at him as he leaned over the counter to her and gently cupped her chin. "You got something sweet for me, Puddin'?" Harley whispered.

"I sure do," he growled seductively and then put the strawberry syrup into his mouth and gave Harley a deep, loving kiss.

A tiny squeak escaped her throat as the syrup traveled from his tongue to hers. When they pulled away from each other's lips, The Joker caressed her jaw line with his long slender finger and gazed into her beautiful, baby blue eyes. "Harley Baby. There's something I've wanted to tell you. Something you've wanted to hear…for a long time, cupcake."

Harley's eyes lit up and she bit her lip. "Oh, Mistah J. Please. Please say it."

He held her hands and squeezed them as he put his forehead to hers and said, "Harley…I lo—"

The sudden loud whir of the steamer filled the air in the coffee shop, making them jump out of their loving gaze. The Joker sighed when the noise stopped and then he looked at Harley again. "I…" The whirring filled the air once more and The Joker turned and put his fist on his hip as he glared at Mark the barista. "Excuse me!" he shouted over the noise and Mark turned to him as he shut off the steamer with a surprised look on his face. "Do you mind, my dear boy? I'm trying to be romantic."

"S-sorry, Mr. Joker," Mark apologized. "Uh…you're drink is ready…Miss…uh Miss Quinn."

"Ooh! Thank you," she said brightly, leaving The Joker's hands and grabbing her coffee. The Joker sighed and rubbed the back of his neck and looked over at Harley when she let out a squeal. "Mmm! I just burned my tongue." He chuckled and then Harley asked him, "What do you want to drink, baby? Try something."

"Mmm," he pondered, tapping his chin thoughtfully and eyeing the large menu on the wall, "What's that uh…Caramel Macchiato thing?" Joker asked Mark as he wiggled his fingers at the item on the menu.

"It's a mix of vanilla and steamed milk with intense espresso, and topped with…um…our caramel sauce," Mark wearily answered as he allowed his nerves to get the better of him. "Would you like one Mr. Joker, sir?"

Joker turned back to Harley and leaned back over the counter towards her, smiling his smile of all smiles, and then he kindly ran his finger down the line of her nose. "Sure Markey, I'll take one of those."

Cradling the warm cup in both hands, Harley took another cautioned sip, and smiled appreciatively at her Prince. She quickly began to giggle and parade softly in her spot as Joker repeated the soothing action of stroking her nose again and again.

"But!" Joker pulled away unexpectedly which caused Harleys smile to fall into a disappointed frown, "I'd like some alterations and additions if you don't mind."

Mark snatched a pen and paper from the counter, eager to not displease his customer of such rankings, "Of course Mr. Joker, anytime you're ready."

"Now," he twirled back to Harley and took hold of her drink, and brought the cup up to his lips to take a quick taste.

"Hey!" Harley straightened her back triumphantly and within an instant she hunched her shoulders up and gave a pouting glare, "That's my drink!"

He merely shrugged her off and continued with the sip, "Good God, what the hell is this?" he shoved the drink back towards Harley in a disgusted manner, while she smugly grabbed it with quick fingers. She managed to stick her tongue out quickly at Joker when he turned his back on her, crossing her eyes to add to the effect. "As I was saying, Markey, I'd like for you to make my Caramel Macchiato with cinnamon not vanilla, and semi-steamed milk with even more intense espresso…in fact make sure you add three…" he looked at Harley and asked secretively, "Shots right?"

"Right-o Mistah J!"

He vociferously continued his order to Mark, "Add three shots of the caffeinated liquid to my drink. I also want that strawberry syrup to coat the inside of the cup." Joker approached the small refrigerator located in the back counter. He peered inside and took out a pink carton and shook it violently in front of him. "Make sure to put whatever this is in too."

"You want…you want cranberry juice in your drink?" Mark asked as his brows portrayed a look of questioning repulsion.

Joker brought the flailing carton to a halt and he examined the label which of course read 'Cranberry Juice', "If I said I wanted this in my drink, Mark, then I _want_ it in my drink." He stated with a darker character.

Mark glanced over at Harley for assurance. She quietly nodded and took a petite sip from her cup, letting her body and head begin to bob to the beat of the music in the store, "If Mistah J says he wants it, then you should put the juice in the slurp!"

Joker smiled and patted her on the head, "Thank you Pooh. Now Mark, I also want strawberry whip cream on the top, none of that white stuff…"

"But sir," he hesitantly interrupted, "We don't have strawberry whip cream."

Harley shook her head in disappointment to Mark's words and Joker turned on his heel to direct his attention to the clumsy barista, "Look here…I want strawberry whip cream. It is not my fault your establishment doesn't have the needs to make my wants satisfied. If need be, cobble together different items!"

"Yes sir!" he replied in a nervous snap.

"Good," Joker leapt up onto the counter and sat with his legs hanging over the side. He patted the spot next to him for Harley to join. She eagerly, with a short cheerful peep, positioned herself next to him and leaned her head against his arm. Joker reached for her cup again, excusing his earlier repulsion of the taste, "It doesn't have a bad after taste you know."

"Mr. Joker-er…um," Mark cleared his throat and continued, "what size would you like?"

"Oh," Joker grinned as he pulled off the lid to Harleys drink and dipped his finger in the foamy delicious substance that topped her beverage, "I suppose a small will suffice." Joker wiped the froth from his fingers across Harley's lips and she moaned excitedly in apprehensive anticipation. She kicked her legs to a precise rhythm as Joker leaned into her and licked the mouth-watering essence from her lips in one slow swipe.

She sprawled her back against the counter-top when he finished with his loving lick, and rowdily piped out, "Oh Mistah J!" Joker himself laughed throatily and crept his fingers across her stomach, admiring how devoted she was to him.

"A tall?" Mark questioned as he reached for a cup.

"No," Joker didn't seem to be too put off by the mistake in word exchange, "Just a small."

"Right. A tall."

Joker watched Harley crawl seductively over him and stop when her stomach pressed against his lap. He stroked the small dip in her back and annoyingly repeated the order of his indicated size choice, "No…Mark…a _small_."

Harley played with diverse items on the counter top but listened to the difficulty of the conversation, "Uh, Mistah J? A small is a…"

"Not now Harley, Daddy's busy."

She shrugged and swayed her head side to side, not allowing herself to become burdened over the discussion. Harley grabbed a gift card with a picture of a cup of coffee on it, and a mint flavored pack of gum, and began to provide voiceovers for the lifeless objects. "I'm Gift Card Man!" she shook the card lightly in her left hand and changed her voice from its higher tone to that of a lower one to accompany the pack of gum in her right hand, "And I'm Minty Fresh!"

"But Mr. Joker…a tall is the same thing as a small. At Starbucks we have a tall that equals a small, a grande that equals a medium, and a venti that equals a large."

Joker narrowed his glare at Mark, "Why the hell would you call something that is a tall…a small…grande which means large…a medium…and what the hell is venti? That doesn't even seem adequate that's for certain!"

"Well…"

"Chew gum dirt bag!" Harley forced Minty Fresh to attack Gift Card Man with brutal doings, "This'll freshen up your act!"

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking, my rude friend!" he pointed a deathly accusing finger at Mark as his voice grew thunderous and vivacious. "I'll let you know when it's alright to respond, got it?"

Mark swallowed and wiped away the small accumulation of sweat that had formed on his forehead, "Yes Mr. Joker sir."

Joker growled and grabbed a ceramic mug that had been on display on the counter and threw it violently at Mark, "I thought I told you not to speak!"

Harley let Gift Card Man take the upper hand in the battle, "Haha! Now I've got you right where I want you, Minty Fresh! Time to _pay_ for your meaningless acts of freshening up this world!"

Mark ducked out of the way of the oncoming mug, and threw his hands up in the air. He wanted to speak but was frightened to do so. Joker noticing that he had something to say allowed him permission, "You may speak now."

"You want a small…you got a small! You got a small, coming right up sir!" Mark nodded and reached for the cup.

"Good answer, bub," Harley said, letting Gift Card Man and his nemesis Minty Fresh drop to the floor.

The Joker looked down at his little harlequin as she was sprawled across his lap, and he glided his palm over the small of her back and over one of her firm cheeks. She giggled as he squeezed it and then gave it a sound pop. "Oh!" Harley exclaimed, her head jerking up, making her drop the jazz CD she was now holding. "Mistah J! We are in public." She looked behind her and seductively grinned at him.

He chuckled darkly and smacked her other cheek, making her squeal. "You love it, you nasty little girl." Harley smiled broadly and playfully kicked her legs. He stroked the back of her neck as she raised herself up and he immediately kissed her lips. "You just wait till we get home," he growled in her ear.

"Oooh, Puddin'…" she sighed as she leaned into his neck as he wrapped his long, graceful arm around her waist.

"Uh…Mr. Joker…sir?" came Mark's timid voice behind him.

The Joker rolled his eyes and sighed as Harley whimpered. He lifted Harley's chin and kissed her on the nose. "To be continued…" he whispered. He and Harley jumped off the counter, turned to Mark and answered him. "All done, my good fellow?"

Harley's loud cackle echoed off the ceiling as they gazed at the poor barista, who was now covered in whipped cream and strawberry syrup. The Joker smiled as he leaned against the counter and Mark handed him his drink. "Here's your…uh…well, I really don't know what I should call it…Mr. Joker...sir…"

The Joker took the drink from his hands and pulled off the lid. "Ah! Good work, my boy!" he exclaimed as he took a quick lick at the pink, strawberry flavored whipped cream. He put a bit of the cream on his fingertip and let Harley seductively suck it off. "Mmm," she moaned, rubbing her stomach. "Muy delicisoso, Mistah J."

"Right you are, Pooh," he agreed as he brought the cup to his lips. He suddenly stopped and eyed Mark. "You followed my instructions, I trust?" Mark fervently nodded his head. "Strawberry syrup coating in the cup? Three shots of espresso? A pint of, yes, cranberry juice?" Mark's eyes began to water in anticipation as his infamous customer held his drink to his lips. "Very well, here goes." He took a small sip and smacked his lips as the poor, frightened barista looked on. "Hmm…" He took a bigger gulp and smacked his lips louder.

"How is it, my big, handsome Clown Prince?" Harley cooed as she swayed her body next to his tall stature.

He took another big gulp and suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist. "Baby," he said, smiling. "It's the best coffee I've had in years! Well, done, Markey my boy!" Mark breathed a heavy sigh of relief, but stiffened again when The Joker said, "Although…"

"Although…?" Mark repeated, worried about his concoction. "I…I followed your instructions, sir. I even used all the whipped cream and mixed the espresso just right. What could be wrong with it?"

The Joker raised his eyebrow at the barista and casually sauntered over to the counter. He grabbed Mark by one of the strings of his apron and pulled him closer to his face. "Although, my lad," The Joker snarled. "You never told me the name of the drink."

"I…I told you, Mr. Joker," Mark gulped. "I don't know…I mean…you came up with the idea…"

"Ahh! But, Markey-dear, you actually made it! This is your doing, not mine. To be honest, I didn't think that you could actually pull it off. In fact…I think I know what I'll call it." He gave his drink to Harley and jumped over the counter. He grabbed the black marker that was used to write on the cups and jumped onto the counter just below the menu. Harley and Mark watched as he scribbled away and then finally jumped down.

Harley sighed. "Oh, Mistah J. You're so clever."

The Joker walked over to Mark and put his arm around his shoulder as the barista gazed at the menu to see the name of the new, bizarre drink he had made. "Mark?" he said, looking at The Joker. "You named it after me?"

"Of course, buddy boy," The Joker said, giving him an eerie smile. "You've earned it. Now…say 'Have a nice day.'"

Mark hesitated but then stammered, "Uh..h-have a nice day?"

The Joker took one of the big blenders and hit Mark in the back of the head, making him drop to the floor, unconscious.

Harley, with a content smile, leaned over the counter and watched the fallen Mark lay withered and messy from the various items used to make their drinks, "Puddin', I think he's still moving…"

"Give it a minute Pooh," Joker retrieved his drink from Harley and took another generous swig from it, "He's had a busy morning after all."

Harley agreed with a quick head nod, "Very busy."

Joker poked him with the toe of his shoe and waited for a moment until Marks groggy moans came to a halt, "See?"

She bounced in her spot as Joker leapt back over. He swiftly cocked his head to one side and held his arm out in a gentlemen's pose for Harley to wrap her own around, "Oh, why thank you!" she said with a smile and eagerly fulfilled his silent command.

"Come Harley, let's head home," he lead her out the front door of the Starbucks and the two entered the awkwardly parked vehicle that took up two parking spots.

Joker pushed his feet up on the dash and placed his folded hands behind his head in comforting support as he let out a lengthy and relaxed sigh. He waited for the sound of the car to start and after a short amount of time he looked to the driver's seat to see Harley frozen with the key half way into the ignition, "What's the matter with you?" he barked, "Don't tell me you have to 'tinkle' again, because if you do, you'll just have to wait!"

She giggled and turned to him, "Heh, no Mistah J, it's just that well, could we maybe go back in to ge-"

"Go back in? Why the hell do we need to go back in? I let you pee, I bought…_got_ you a coffee, and you want to go back in for something else?" his eyes were wide and puzzled as he questioned his harlequin.

Harley blushed, "I was just gonna ask if we could, ya know, grab that bottle of strawberry syrup. It was real good Mistah J, especially the way you used it."

"Oh," he smiled and pushed his head back. He opened up the flap of his coat and pulled out the very bottle Harley was talking about, "Did you think I'd let something that good slip pass me Harley girl?" he asked as he swung the bottle between them.

She licked her bottom lip as she eyed Joker excitedly. Sensing that twinkle in his girls eyes, he permitted himself to move in towards her. He stopped just before her lips and Harley closed her eyes to heighten her scenses, "Oh Mistah- Ow!" she pulled away and rubbed her nose in an attempt to take away the annoying pain of the finger flick Joker had given her, "What was that for?"

"That's for sticking your tongue out at me earlier," He stated as he leaned back into his own seat, "Now come on and go already! Don't want this syrup to go bad on us do we?"

"No…" she started the ignition and felt Jokers hand rub the back of her neck lightly which caused her to swoon in her spot, "No we don't."

**Please remember to give credit to both authors in your review:**

**Alex Snape + Joker'n'Harley**

**This was completely a joint effort between the two of them.**


End file.
